


Heir Apparent

by Cyhyr



Series: Promnis Week 2019 [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Day 4: Niflheim Prince AU, Gunshot Wounds, Promnis Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 12:41:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17447204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyhyr/pseuds/Cyhyr
Summary: Presenting His Imperial Highness, Prompto Besithia. Heir Apparent to the Empire of Niflheim, hand-picked by the late Emperor Aldercapt, and son of Verstael Besithia.The last thing Prince Prompto wants is to inherit a country at war.In his top ten list would be the handsome advisor the Lucian delegation sent to his policy announcement dinner.Now if only the assassination attempts would stop...Day 4: Niflheim Prince AU





	Heir Apparent

**Author's Note:**

> Not Beta-read. I wrote this in one sitting. And there's not much promnis besides a few throw-away lines. 
> 
> I'll do better tomorrow.

Prompto carefully lifted his drink to his lips, but didn’t ingest any of it. He hadn’t gotten the all-clear from Aranea, but she was still milling about trying to get a feel for the room. They had split up once they had been announced and entered the ball, trusting each other to fend for themselves for a few minutes. Beforehand, Aranea had reminded him not to eat or drink, but to stay inconspicuous for now.

Inconspicuous was difficult, though, when you were the Heir Apparent to the empire that controlled two of the three other countries and was at war with the third. He stayed against a wall of the Imperial ballroom while diplomats and high-born persons tried their best to not show their sneers.

No one wanted to be here. Hell, _Prompto_ didn’t want to be here. Aranea was the only one in his cabinet that approved of his policy change—which is why she didn’t trust anyone else to test the food and drink being served at their own palace. And the representatives of the other countries also looked like they were politely pretending to eat and drink while they quietly spoke to each other.

“Kid,” Aranea joined him with a glass of wine in hand. “It’s all safe.”

Prompto let his shoulders sag. He didn’t know if that was relieving or not. If not by poisoning, how was the assassination attempt going to happen this time?

“You need to mingle. No one’s going to believe your announcement if you don’t show them that you’re different from Aldercapt.”

“No one’s going to believe me anyway,” Prompto muttered. “Not until all the troopers are pulled back to Niflheim.”

“ _Go_.”

“This was a mistake.”

“Your Imperial Highness.”

Prompto and Aranea both turned to face the newcomer; a tall, pale-haired, bespectacled man in an immaculate black suit was bowed over in front of them, one hand over his chest. Prompto’s schooling was good enough that even though the man spoke with a Tenebraen accent, he recognized the formalities of Lucis. He stood back up straight and Prompto’s mouth was dry. The man was gorgeous.

“May I introduce His Royal Highness, Noctis Lucis Caelum, prince of Lucis,” the man said, stepping aside just enough for the named prince to step up in front of them. At his other side, a taller muscular man glared at Prompto for just a moment, then turned and faced the crowd behind his charge.

Aranea stuck out her hand first. “Aranea Highwind, Imperial Heir and advisor to our future emperor.”

Prince Noctis shook her hand, and then she offered it to the man at his side. He took it, introducing himself, “Ignis Scientia, Hand of the Prince.”

_Okay, so he's out of bounds_ , Prompto thought as he also shook hands with both Ignis and Prince Noctis. “Please,” he said, “Just Prompto, or Prince Prompto if you must.”

Prince Noctis nodded. “I’m okay with first names.”

“Alright. How do you find the party?”

Noctis frowned. “Actually, everyone seems to be on their toes. Even you two. Something we weren’t informed of? I thought you had some big announcement.”

Prompto cleared his throat and ducked his head a bit. “Ah, actually, I’m—um.”

“Prompto’s coming down from his third assassination attempt this week,” Aranea cut in. This startled the Lucians before them, even the guard with his back turned stiffened. “We’re on high alert, but I assure you the food and drinks are safe. It’s likely, though, that someone else would be a target tonight and not us, if only to subvert the message Prompto wants to send.”

“And what would that be?” Ignis asked.

“Peace,” Prompto said. He managed to look both Noctis and Ignis in the eye and continued, “I don’t want to inherit a country at war, or with captured citizens that curse Niflheim at every chance. Tonight is my announcement of my first policy and my primary goal as Emperor.”

Aranea gently took his elbow and pulled him in to whisper, “Your father’s here, glaring daggers. On your ten.” Sure enough, Prompto took a glance over Ignis’s shoulder and saw the old man, Verstael Besithia, watching their interaction.

“So ‘peace,’ but for selfish reasons,” Noctis said and sighed. “I mean, what did I expect?”

Prompto looked back at Noctis and shook his head. “No, I didn’t mean it like that, I…” Verstael was moving through the crowd, weaving in and out. “What is he doing?” he muttered to Aranea.

She stiffened her hold on him and said, “I don’t know. I’m going to go find out. Stay here.”

“Prince Prompto?”

He caught Ignis’s eyes again, and turned back to an unpleasant frown on Noctis’s face. “I’m sorry, it’s just—”

“You’re distracted, whatever. How did you mean it, then?”

“I only want peace for Eos and I know that Niflheim is every country’s antagonistic force. I want to pull it all back, give back Tenebrae its autonomy, remove our influence from Accordo, and most importantly, stop our invasion of the Lucian Continent— _Move!_ ” Prompto pulled Noctis to the side, where Aranea had been standing before, and took the bullet intended for the Lucian Prince’s back. Red erupted from his white formalwear as the crowd began to panic.

Aranea landed on the shooter just after the gun went off, running a dagger into the back of her neck. She looked around for Besithia, but he was gone—either this wasn’t his plot, or he made it away in time that it couldn’t be pinned on him. She swore as the woman at her feet twitched with death, and then looked up to see Prompto bleeding, the Lucian retinue standing guard around both princes.

“Damn it all,” she muttered, then ran to his side.

Prompto fell forward onto his knees as blood began to dribble out his mouth. He blacked out before he hit the floor.

* * *

He woke later to soreness in his chest and quiet chatter in his room. The itch of his formalwear was gone, replaced by the sharp stinging smell of astringent and floor cleaner. Soft sheets bunched at his hips and short-sleeved scrubs covered his torso.

The palace’s hospital wing.

Home sweet home.

Across the room, Prince Noctis was on the phone while pacing back and forth. At his left, the muscled guard from before stood watch at the window, glaring at the Lucian prince any time he got too close. And, at his right, Ignis Scientia, _the most gorgeous man in the world wow he was on the good drugs._

Ignis chuckled.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” Prompto asked. His voice was raspy and quiet, but it seemed that Ignis had keen hearing.

“You did. The highest compliment from the Heir Apparent, I presume?”

Prompto sniffed a laugh. “Was Prince Noctis injured?”

“Only the barest of bruises from your grip, Your Highness,” Ignis said, and then bowed his head. “My thanks.”

“Aranea?”

“Killed the shooter, a Lady Selenia Trapt?”

Prompto groaned. “Her daughter was Heir Apparent for five years before I was selected. She certainly had motive.”

“But Lady Aranea would be your successor, would she not?”

“She will, once I’m actually Emperor. I can’t name Heirs until then.”

Ignis hummed. “Niflheim laws of succession are quite the maze.”

Prince Noctis hung up the phone and stood at the foot of the bed. “Thank you, Prince Prompto. I don’t think even Gladio could have reacted in time. I’m glad you’re recovering.”

“Me too,” Prompto said. “But this is going to push back my schedule by _weeks_. I’ve been planning bids for peace, but I can’t really travel with a hole in my chest. I’d been hoping to visit Lucis to speak with the King in a month or so.” He groaned. “Bummer.”

“You’re really serious about it?”

“Prince Noctis, I took a bullet to the chest to stop a militant nightmare from descending on our countries. I’m, quite literally, deathly serious about discontinuing Niflheim’s policy of war.”

The room was silent for a few breaths as everyone processed. Then, the door opened and in strode Aranea with a folder under her arm and a glint in her eye.

“Move aside, Specky. I’ve got good news for His Imperial Highness.”

Ignis stood and stepped closer to Prompto’s head. His heart fluttered a bit and damn it hurt.

Good hurt, good hurt. The man was _pretty_.

She shoved the folder into his hands and it was tricky to open it with wires and sensors attached to his arms, but he got it. Then, she smiled. “The Lady Oracle heard about your stupidity and called us directly to ask about your policy. I’ve been on the phone with her and her brother for the last hour, drafting this. Your first treaty, kid! The Protectorate of Tenebrae will be returned its sovereignty the day after your coronation, all you gotta do is sign on the line.”

Prompto leafed through the drafted treaty, his smile growing with every line he skimmed. The medication was kicking in again, so he was getting sleepy, but this! This was what he was after! “Aranea, it’s… you’re the best!”

“I know.”

“I’ll need to read it all later.”

“I know.”

“I’m so excited.”

“ _I know_ , kid,” she laughed. “Go back to sleep. You’ve got shit to do and you’ve gotta heal up properly before it can happen.”

Before his eyes could shut, he held the treaty folder out to Prince Noctis. “Would you do me the honor of reading through this and making sure that Tenebrae gets its due?”

Noctis laughed. “Believe me, you don’t want me reading it. I never really got through my political science lessons. But Ignis can do it, if that’s okay, Specs?”

Prompto turned to the side and smiled up at the man, holding the folder up to him. Ignis nodded. “It would be my pleasure, Prince Prompto.”

Their fingers brushed when Ignis took the folder. Prompto’s heart fluttered again and he winced, but settled back into his pillow. “Thank you, Ignis. Feel free to make notes and such.” He yawned and shut his eyes. “Aranea,” he muttered, and felt her take his hand, “It’s starting.”

Peace on Eos.

 


End file.
